Almost Heaven, West Virginia
by I'm Miss World
Summary: "What I mean is, I know you got yer morals an' all but… 'f ya feel like yer married 'n the heart, God ain't gonna mind. An' Lord knows you been married ta my brother since you was 'bout twelve." Those may have been the only words Johnse had ever spoken that had changed her life. If Libby Sawyer wanted Cap, she would have to give him a reason not to look elsewhere. CapOC
1. Part I

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the _Hatfields and McCoys_ series. Though historical accuracy may appear, this is a work of pure fiction. I do not claim any connection to the real William 'Cap' Hatfield, or any other historical people mentioned in this story. Newspaper articles inspired by existing wanted posters from the time period.

**A/N:** In love with this miniseries. I have seriously watched it a zillion times by now. So here goes nothing. Please don't forget to review!

* * *

**Almost Heaven, West Virginia**

**Part I**

* * *

_West Virginia, 1862_

"My stars. I see it with my eyes, but I don' believe it." The man who'd spoken pulled his hat from his head, pushing his salt and pepper dusted brown hair away from his eyes to get a closer look in the midday sun. "Devil Anse Hatfield? That you?"

The man in question stood at the opening of his front door, having woken up at an unusually late hour on his first morning home since retreating back to Logan County from his cavalry. He hadn't expected any visitors this early, knowing it couldn't be any of his kin, since they tended to let themselves inside.

The visitor thought the old friend in front him would only come back in a casket, if at all, having heard tales of the Confederacy's losing battle against the Union. Chester 'Savage Chet' Sawyer had served in the ongoing war for the south already, under Anse's platoon no less, before he was shot in the shoulder and sent back home to Logan County, West Virginia to recuperate. And his strong arm at that. He was still feeling the effects of the damage done to the limb, but the wound had healed nicely, and Doc Rutherford had said it looked like it would be fully functioning in time, as long as he took care not to overuse it.

The day Chet'd been shot he was sure would be the last day he'd ever lay eyes on his cavalry leader, William Anderson Hatfield. Anse to his friends. Devil to the rest.

But here he stood, in the flesh, still in one piece. "War's done. Known it since before you got hit with that Yankee bullet." They had shared their cynical views on the outcome of the war together before Chet had been injured, and by the defeated look on his friend's face, Chet could tell things had not improved any.

Chester would never utter the word_ 'desertion' _at Devil Anse Hatfield, no sir. The man had been a mentor to him in his younger years, and was likely the man Chet respected most in the world. While that was what Anse had admitted to, Chet would be lying if he hadn't considered the same. He'd already left his lonely, pregnant wife twice, and couldn't bear to do it again now. Anse had wanted what they'd all wanted; to go home alive, and the man had just ensured that he had. Chet couldn't persecute or blame him. The war was already lost for the South, if proud men like Anse and Chet saw it that way.

It had been six months since Chet had been waiting here at home for over six months now, waiting for any sign of victory… or defeat, it seemed in this case, he could count on. He and Jim Vance had kept the Logan Wildcats alive as best they could back here, though it consisted mainly of capturing and killing straggling Yanks.

Unsure of how he was about to be received by his colleague, Anse waited for a reaction from him. He'd known the younger man all his life. Chet was even a major investor in Anse's timber business, and donated acres of land to the cause. He was the man holding down the fort when Anse was still out fighting, along with Jim and Lias, but Chet had the financially stable mind of the three, and kept the books. Which was fine for now, Doc advising Chet not to push his luck in the tree groves by getting back to the physical labor before his wounded shoulder was fully healed.

Anse couldn't decipher what was occurring through the mind of Savage Chet, as his face had contorted into somewhat of a blank stare, almost as though he realized he might really be looking at a ghost. Hope for confederate victory had dwindled greatly, and honestly, most never expected to see the brave men who rebelled against the Union again. To see the leader of their cavalry, still standing here breathing, was a miracle in itself.

Not another hesitant moment passed before Chet moved forward, roughly embracing the man he called a brother though they shared no blood. Anderson Hatfield was home, and alive, and now, life could go on as it once was.

Both chuckling deeply and clapping one another on the back, they pulled away simultaneously, Anse stepping aside to invite his friend in. "Levicy's just makin' some ham an' eggs. Yer welcome ta join."

Chet declined, waving his hands. "No, I won't intrude brother. Jus' needed ta see ya with my own two eyes 's all. An' congratulations on that boy a yers." Anse had only just met his firstborn, Johnse, upon his arrival back at home while Chet had been watching him grow.

Things seemed restored now, right to Chet, the feeling in the air settled now that Anse was back. So many looked up to and depended on him. They'd all helped Levicy as best they could in his absence, but he could see the woman's glowing face as he tipped his hat to her in brief greeting from where she stood over her stove.

"We're blessed today Chet," she called to him with a smile, pure happiness etched into her voice.

"Yes m'am, it seems so." Focusing back to Anse, Chet gave him a small nod. "I won't keep ya. Jus' wonderin' though… any news from the cavalry? What about the others?"

Anse's face became remorseful, knowing they both had friends and family fighting the hopeless fight. Anse closed the door behind him, walking outside onto the porch and leaning against the railing. The smell of Levicy's cooking wafted through the warm, early morning air, and Anse took a second to savor it, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply. Lord, how he'd missed that smell.

Chet sat on a bench Ellison had carved that was kept on the porch alongside the rocker, hands on his knees, awaiting a response. He was expecting grave news.

When Anse looked back at Chet, he told him the truth. "I don't know what's become… of anyov 'em. Not now. The battle was lost. I made 'em retreat and held off the Yanks as best I could. Lucky ta escape with my life at all. Blew some kid's brains… allover the place. Didn't even flinch." He became lost, reliving the moment, one of the many that had turned him harder than he used to be, which seemed almost impossible when he wasn't made of stone. "Guessin' they're either dead, prisoners, 'r they smartened up like me an' came back ta their families. War's lost. Ain't much use in 'em dyin' fer it, so that's what I hope fer."

Chet was silent for a minute before he bitterly chuckled. "Hell, knew that 'fore I even got shot." He and Anse had had sat nights by the fire, discussing their desires and making false threat to just go home. Both had left behind pregnant wives, Chet having already lost his first son at birth a year prior.

"Thought Ol' Rand'll McCoy was gonna shoot me. Caught me packin' my horse. Guess he thought better of it though Proud man, that McCoy." He pushed off the railing and stared off into the sunrise. "Thought about my wife, my little boy, my brothers. I needed to come back. I tried to tell him ta do the same… but you know him."

This was heavy information. If Devil Anse himself had really abandoned his post, then there really was no hope. The North had won.

A long silence passed between them, filled only by the morning crickets and birds chirping away before Chet spoke. "I'll pray fer 'im. I'll pray fer 'em all."

Remorsefully, Anse turned back to Chet and approached him. "Speakin' a prayers, ol' friend… give Lucy my condolences. Fate is unkind, but works in mysterious ways. The right time will come." He placed a comforting hand, towering above Chet, whose head hung low.

"Another son. Just when we think everythin's right…"Chet's wife had taken ill, resulting in another stillborn child, another lost son. Fighting back tears, Chet stood quickly, again embracing his comrade. The loss of his second child had been tragic and strained Chester's marriage greatly. Lucy was always under the weather, spending most of her time locked away in the house, sleeping, eating, and rocking the empty cradle and staring out the window at the family plot, where both boys lay.

"This should be a joyous occasion. No more talk of lost children of waning wives." Anse of course, obliged, shaking the man's hand as they pulled away. "I'll leave you to your breakfast. Seeing you here gives me faith brother."

* * *

_West Virginia, 1866_

The pacing motions of Chet wearing the soles of his work boots across the porch of the Hatfield's was the only sound through the thickening silence previously drowned out by the moans and groans of Lucy Sawyer as she gave birth for the fourth time, the sudden quiet an good indication the child was out, and Chet feared the worst, as did both Devil Anse and his brother Ellison, each men showing support for a man they saw as more of a brother than friend.

Chet stopped suddenly, shaking his head sadly, too familiar with the following silence. It would be another baby born dead, their fourth. Chester had promised his wife this would be their last if it didn't survive. They would not try again, as she couldn't bear to go through another birth, only to have a dead child in return.

Even Johnse and William sat quietly, both boys not entirely aware of the severity of the situation, but feeling the air around them calling for their silence. Johnse sat tall at his father's feet, four years old now, Will seated on Anse's lap, a wooden block clutched tightly in one hand, though he was ignoring it, the younger of Anse's children just past two years old now. He had successfully bore another son, wile his friend and his wife instead had suffered the loss of another child at birth.

The door opened to reveal Levicy, blood staining the apron she wore. Tears streamed down her cheeks, mixed with the sweat. She had midwived over the three stillbirths beforehand, but her tight-lipped smile rocked Chet with confusion this time. "A girl." And a second later, he heard the distinct sound of an infant crying. "A _healthy_, baby girl."

Rushing past her, wide eyed, Chet made his way to the room where his wife had given birth, seeing her looking exhausted and pale, though her eyes and smile brightened the entire room as she held a bundle of white sheets to her chest, Doc Rutherford drying his hands near the washbin as the new father entered. "Congratulations, my boy," he said, shaking the man's hand gladly as a smile spread over his face for what felt like the first time in his life.

In a daze, he made his way to Lucy, perching on the edge of the bed and looking down at the face of his first surviving offspring, no matter that it was a girl. All that mattered was she was healthy and beautiful, just as he was pleased to see he was when he first looked into her dark blue eyes through the small slits she seemed to peer at him from. She was fair-haired, like her mother, with a sweet face, pink rosebud lips suckling aimlessly at nothing, arms reaching about.

Scooping her up into his arms, he smiled brightly, raising her above his head and staring up at her lovingly. "I'll brig her right back. Elizabeth, is it still?" Chet questioned his wife, that having been the name they'd discussed, after her mother.

"Elizabeth Grace," she affirmed despite the obvious drowsiness in her appearance and voice. Lucy's eyes drifted shut in her exhaustion, though she continued to talk. "Our sweet Elizabeth."

Heart filled with warmth, Chet left his wife to sleep, bringing the baby outside, to see daylight for the first time. It had been the early morning when Lucy had gone into labor, and six hours later, the sun was still shining bright.

Joyful chuckles from the men echoed through the open area of land as they passed the child around, each commenting on the beauty of her, the first girl of the bunch.

"She's all wrinkly," Johnse piped up as he peered at her while his uncle Ellison cradled her.

"Mark my words boy, you an' yer brother are gonna be chasin' this one 'round someday. Along with every other boy in Logan County," Ellison teased, passing the newborn over to Anse before he reached out a ruffled Johnse's blonde locks as the child pulled a face.

Anse laughed deep in his throat, wondering what a little girl of his own would look like, his wife's belly plump with the early swell of their third child. "Whatdya think 'a this little baby, huh Will?"

"Baby?" Will repeated, just beginning to talk and understand words at his young age. Again, laughter filled the air, Anse passing the child back to the proud father.

* * *

_West Virginia,1976_

"Why don' we jus ' go an' ask Libby ta read it?" Johnse persisted, as if it were clear as day.

"Tellin' me ya wanna go ask a girl, 'specially _that_ girl, ta read ta us like she's our mama?" Will questioned, pulling a uninterested face at his elder brother.

"Well, who else're we gonna ask, _Mama_? Ya know she already don't want us knowin' bout them bandits," Johnse pointed out, already aware that there was no chance Levicy Hatfield would be filling her sons' heads with any of those outlaw ideas, and she was the only other person they knew could read besides their pap, and there was even less of a chance he'd entertain them with the tales of Billy the Kid and Jesse James. "Mama already thinks I's too... _impressionable_, whatever that means," Johnse reminded his younger brother.

Libby wasn't so bad, Will just thought she was a priss, always causing a fuss if he or Johnse played too rough with her and got her dress dirty or something along those lines. She was always crying over spilt milk, and he hated when she acted like that, a spoilt little apple of her mama's eye, and her father's perfect little princess. It was enough to make him sick the way she was doted on. But she did have an education from her mama, who came from lots of money, and Will supposed his brother was right. She was likely their only hope in finding out the details in the newspaper articles.

"_Fine_," Will reluctantly agreed before he snatched the paper from his brother and slid off the lumber pile he'd perched on, then set off full speed towards the Sawyer household, knowing though Johnse could take longer strides, Will could outrun him any day.

Both winded, and being rowdy as they approached the area where the Sawyers lived, on land that had been given to the Hatfield timber business by Chet. Lucy Sawyer stood on the porch, having heard the two boys running up the dirt drive, hooting and hollering at one another. But the second they'd noticed Libby's mother waiting for them with a raised brow of curiosity and her arms crossed over her chest, they quickly put their straight faces on and slowed their pace. "Afternoon A'nt Lucy. Libby wouldn't be 'round, would she?" Johnse inquired, politely removing his hat from his head.

"Hello Johnse. William. I believe my daughter likely heard ya'll runnin' up the way makin' a ruckus. Sure her face's pressed right up 'gainst the window behind me." Peering over her shoulder, the boys following her lead, they saw it was true. Libby was watching through the front window, appearing startled when she'd been caught, instantly disappearing from their view.

Rolling her eyes, Lucy opened the front door and called inside. "Elizabeth! Johnse and William 're here callin' on ya!" she humored her child as to not embarrass her too badly. The young girl hated being caught showing any interest in the Hatfield boys, aware that they found her pesky most of the time. And in order to spite them, she paid them as little mind as she could. But it wasn't every day they came running up the drive to see her.

In an instant, Libby reappeared in the doorway, looking rather confused. The Hatfield boys must've had something really exciting going on if they were calling on her like this. They were usually finding some way to ditch her instead of see her.

"If ya'll go anywhere, ya need ta be home by supper time, ya hear me Elizabeth Grace?" Lucy reinforced before turning to go back inside. The boys snickered at the stern warning, though they knew they were expected home under similar pretences.

"Mama!" she whined, concluding her mother must embarrass her intentionally. Lucy just dismissively waved her hand in her daughter's direction, sending her off to play.

Turning her attention back to the boys, Libby anticipated what they wanted from her so badly they'd come running like wild men, kicking up dusty behind them. They were rarely that enthusiastic to see her. "Yes?" she offered, spying the folded up paper in Will's hand. She was denied the privilege of reading the paper, though she was already quite literate, having a library of books to herself. Her father insisted she was much too young to be worried about the sorts of things they wrote about in the paper, she assumed he meant the stories of the bandits and the aftermath of the war. Not to mention the local buzz that turned up here and there when Hatfields and McCoys got into tousles.

"Not here," Will insisted, being the most sensible of them all, not wanting to be caught.

Glancing back to make sure her mother wasn't eavesdropping, Libby turned and followed them quite some way down the drive, before moving toward the direction of the Hatfield home. When they finally stopped near the swimming hole, Will thrust the paper in her direction, pointing to the words beneath the picture of the notorious Jesse James. "What's it say 'bout him, huh?"

"It says '_James-Younger Gang Rob Bank in Northfield, Minnesota. Proclamation of the Governor of Missouri, five hundred dollar reward for the arrest and conviction of Jesse James'_." Libby's eyes continued to scan the proclamation. "I been hearin' lotsa people talkin' bout him an' his gang," she commented, hearing the whispers when she was around town with her family, or at church. The young boys were especially interested, seeing these bandits as post-war heroes of the frontier.

"Course ya have. 's all anyone's tlakin' 'bout," Will stated obviously, taking the paper back. Another robbery was quite exciting, only building the reputation of James.

"Can ya imagine… Pa wants me ta be a workin' man. Shoot, I might just start robbin' trains 'nstead. Seems a helluva lot easier than choppin' wood forever," Johnse daydreamed.

"Cause yer a lazy jackass," Will snarked back to his brother, earning a giggle from Libby. Their bantering was always amusing, especially because it was generally Will getting the better of his older brother.

Johnse shot her a sour look, Will instead pleased he'd amused her. "Proper ladies ain't s'posed ta find that sorta cussin' funny, y'know _Elizabeth_." She was all too mature for their liking really, trying hard to be prim and proper always, opting to help the women in the kitchen or with the wash instead of play with the other children at parties. Nose always buried in books that weren't even about real things, which Will just thought was plain stupid. The only use he saw in being book trained was to keep up to date on his favorite American heroes; Jesse James, Billy the Kid, Butch Cassidy. They were real, and he and his brother, just like every other young man who didn't live under a rock, dreamed of being outlaws, just like them someday.


	2. Part II

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the _Hatfields and McCoys_ series. Though historical accuracy may appear, this is a work of pure fiction. I do not claim any connection to the real William 'Cap' Hatfield, or any other historical people mentioned in this story.

**A/N:** Thanks to everyone who reviewed! Please keep them coming. Every one counts in a small fandom like this!

* * *

**Almost Heaven, West Virginia**

**Part II**

* * *

_West Virginia, 1878_

It was well into a cold February evening when a frantic knocking echoed through the otherwise quiet home of Devil Anse Hatfield. The children had all turned in, early to hide from the cold under the blankets, even Johnse and Will who fought to stay up as late as they were permitted to usually. But being older and more aware, the two young men both stirred in their sleep at the sound of unexpected visitors. The familiar, hurried voice of Chet Sawyer is what made the two boys look at each other in the darkness and rise to find out what the fuss was all about though.

"What's goin' on Pa?" Johnse asked sleepily, though he looked as though he was forcing himself to be aware.

Devil Anse turned to his two sons, revealing his worry stricken eyes, and also the tear stained ones of Savage Chet, a sight never seen before. He looked like a broken man, as if his life had shattered completely. Levicy sobbed in the corner, her back to her sons still, pressing a handkerchief to her mouth to cover her cries, for Chet had brought grave news with him.

"Go on an' get dressed boys. A tragedy's happened," Devil Anse informed his two eldest, William being fourteen by now, Johnse sixteen. They were well old enough to be helping in a search, especially around these parts. He knew his boys wouldn't be able to get lost around here if they tried, night or day. It was one thing he'd never worried about.

Chet lost his composure as the boys did as they were told without question, though they were anxious for specific details, running to dress quickly, adding extra layers to tolerate the cold air.

"We're gonna find yer girl Chet." Anse attempted to comfort his friend, pulling his own coat and boots on. Both Anse and Chet had made some enemies in their lifetimes, and there was always the worry of vigilantes and plain old stagecoach robbers. But no one could hate the man enough to do this to him. And his poor family.

Anse had found out this much; Lucy Sawyer had brought Libby with her to Georgia to visit her sister, going on three months ago now. They were expected to return hours ago, and now the cause of their delay had been discovered, previously assumed to be the weather. And it had been a gruesome scene. Lucy and her escorts were dead, their carriage raided, horses stolen. And Chet's young daughter, the only child they'd ever been able to have was missing from the scene of the massacre.

"What went on?" Johnse demanded once again, pulling one of his boots on as he hobbled back into the room, his brother right behind him, buttoning his jacket.

Devil Anse looked at his two sons. The nearby residents had already been alerted of the delayed return of the two, so the boys were aware of that much already. "They found Lucy Sawyer's body off the road 'bout four miles south. Her driver. Two escorts too." Johnse looked horrified, and William's stomach sank.

"An' what about Libby?" Will hesitated before he asked, afraid of the answer.

"Yer Uncle Jim come across 'em huntin' near the Tug. Tracked lil' Libby ta a swamp, but lost her. S-sayin' it din't… it din't look like she's bein' chased." Chet shattered once again, gasping for breath he couldn't seem to get control of. Anse took the time to help the man to an upright seat at his table, a tear-stricken Levicy fetching a cup of water for the grief-stricken widower, her heart torn at the news of her friend's slaughter, and the disappearance of her daughter. "M-my baby girl… she might be out there. Alone. Scared. Lost. She ain't got much woods sense."

That confirmation was enough for Devil Anse to put a search together. His sons would go and alert Lias, Ellison and a few others, and they'd cover the area in a short enough amount of time. If she was alive, they were bound to come across her by sunrise. If Jim was right, and she'd gotten away without being tailed, she most likely found a place to hide somewhere. He doubted a little girl like that would do much wandering around. Savage Chet didn't live up to that name when it came to his daughter; spoilt that girl rotten, and lord knows she was never brought out hunting or anything. She was proper thing, educated by her similar mother, taught to play piano and fiddle, able to sew and cook. But survive out in the wild? That wasn't likely. All they could hope is that the attackers hadn't caught her at all, and she'd found somewhere to hide, staying put and waiting on them. The girl had brains, so it would be possible. "Boys, go on an' get Ellison an' Lias an' head down there. I'll get some others an' we'll meet here in an hour, understand?"

The two boys immediately left the house, both stunned by this information. But at least there was a chance she wasn't dead. If Uncle Jim had said no one followed her, then no one had followed her. But he'd lost her trail at the river, and they both knew the girl couldn't swim to save her life. Not to mention, it was cold, and if she was wet, she'd be on her way to hypothermia.

William had a lump in his throat. If they were to find a body, or no sign of her at all, she would be the first young person he knew that died. He'd known a few older people who'd passed on, but it was different. It was much more shocking of a situation. Poor women were probably just minding their own business and got held up, form the sounds of it. That was the danger of traveling long distances since the war.

The brothers saddled their horses quickly and mounted just as fast. Cap was a faster rider than Johnse, so he rode to his Uncle Ellison's place, further down the way. The older man must've heard him coming, because he was already waiting for him at the door, looking groggy and confused. "Uncle Ellison! Libby Sawyer's gone missin'. Found her mama dead. Some robbers done it."

"Sonovabitch," Ellison hissed, disbelieving of this tragic news. What was the world coming to? A woman and child couldn't even travel safely anymore without stagecoach robbers attacking them?

"Libby's gone missin'?" Cotton Top said from the doorway, apparently awake due to the commotion, hearing what happened. Elizabeth was always of a mature nature for her age, and Cotton tended to be found following her around on occasions where they were in each other's presence. She was kind to him, and never lost her temper, or teased him like so many others. And she certainly never called him Mush-head, the way all the other kids did. William couldn't even lie; he'd seen her reading to Cotton on many occasions, and stopped to listen, not being able to read or write himself. He'd opted to work on the farm instead of bothering with school until he was old enough to work in the timber yards with Johnse and his Pa.

"We're gon' find her Cotton," Will confidently assured him, and Ellison looked to Anse's middle son with slight hesitation, the promise of a potentially unlikely outcome making him nervous. That was a little girl to be out on her own like that, in this cold especially.

"Go on inside Cotton. I'll be home." Sadly, Cotton listened, going back inside the house while he sobbed quietly and Ellison followed to get his boots and jacket, trying to comfort his son with a strong hand on his shoulder, while William swung his horse around, clicking with his mouth for his horse to take off and run. "I'm headin' ta the river. Meet me there!" Will couldn't waste another second. Inside, he was panicking, and had been since the moment he'd found out what was happening. He needed to find her, and he needed to do it immediately.

As Will left his brother in the dust to wait for his uncle, he went through every worst case scenario he could in his mind, to prepare himself. There were a lot of horrible things that could happen out here. For one, whoever got her mama might've caught up to her too. A bear, or a cougar might've torn her up. Could've curled up in a foxhole and froze to death. He really hoped she hadn't stumbled upon any McCoys; things had only been getting worse with those hillbillies.

In the past year or so, Libby had gotten desirable to the eye, and Will would be afraid of what those no good McCoy boys would do if they got their hands on her, especially that rotten prick Tolbert. She'd probably only gotten nicer looking since she'd been away too, looking more Will's age than her own. That idea made him dig his heels into his horse a little deeper, picking up some speed.

He rode up and down the riverbank, hollering her name out until Johnse met him alone, his uncles going in the opposite direction to look.

Eventually, the sky started to glow. The boys were cold, and the horses were tired. Their eyelids were heavy, and they craved the feeling of their warm beds.

"We been out here near three hours now. She ain't here," Johnse huffed exasperated, tired and grouchy from being woken up from his deep sleep, then having to rush out to help find the Sawyer girl.

"So what, you wanna jus' leave her out here? _Libby_?" Will asked Johnse incredulously. The younger boy didn't think he'd get a minute of sleep knowing she was maybe out here waiting for someone to find her, vulnerable to all kinds of things, people and animals alike. His brother looked ashamed when it was brought to his attention like that.

Sighing, Johnse reluctantly headed down the left side of the fork, calling out to Libby. William shook his head at his older brother and went the opposite way riding until he couldn't hear his brother's calls till he started with his own. If he gave up now, she was dead, and that'd be that. He was afraid to give up, because then it was over.

He stopped once he'd reached near the end of that road. Following the bend would take him over one of the mountains, and he sure hoped she hadn't gone that far. Wasn't nothing up there but bandits, wildcats, and wolves. She _was_ as good as dead if that's where she'd gone.

William squinted in the darkness, looking around. There was no movement other than the breeze. He just sat, surveying, and waiting, and hoping for a sign of life. "Libby!" he hollered out loudly once, hearing his echo reverberate off the hilly peaks.

And then he stopped. He looked quickly to his left, swearing he'd heard some kind of noise. Could just be a hare, but he wouldn't want to just run off without being sure. If they didn't find her tonight, there wasn't going to be much hope for her survival. And Savage Chet hadn't looked like he could take the news of his daughter being lost after his wife had already been murdered in cold blood and robbed.

Dismounting his horse, Will made his way over to a small grove of trees, where he'd sworn he'd noticed movement. When he got closer, he saw it was nothing more than a foxhole though, and sighed in defeat. But his tension immediately returned when he distinctly heard the chattering of teeth, and a small sob.

He went to the head of the foxhole and looked inside, unable to see much even with the help of the bright moon and creeping sun. "Lib? Libby? You in there?" William suddenly realized, if it _were_ her in there, after the state her mother had apparently been found in, the girl must be scared. " 'S me. William Hatfield," he tried adding to lure her out.

To his relief, he was met with a promising reply. "William?" she whimpered out from inside the burrow. "A-are you alone?"

"Yeah, Lib. Well, no. Johnse's down the other way!" He was pretty ecstatic he'd found her, and on his own too. His Pa would be proud, and he was eager to get her out of that foxhole and back home. "Shoot, half the town's out lookin' for ya. You all right? What happened? How'd you get this far out here anyhow?" If she had run, she'd run far and long to be this far from where the looted carriage she'd been traveling in had been found.

But his questions were silenced as he watched her emerge from the hideout, offering his hand when she was within reach and pulling her the rest of the way out. She was covered in mud and wetness it looked like, and her hand was cold as ice. Ripping his jacket off, he pulled it around her tightly, knowing he could bear the cold long enough to get her to his mom and by a warm fire.

Most startling for him though was the look of pure horror fading away to absolute relief as she broke down, launching herself forward and into him with all the strength she had left, arms encircling his neck so tightly he had to bend his knees a little to match her height so he wouldn't choke. But once he'd steadied his footing, he'd hesitantly wrapped his arms around her comfortingly and made sure it was strong. She'd just looked traumatized the second he'd caught sight of her face. And so thankful and relieved when she'd actually set eyes on him and seen it wasn't just her imagination, or worse, the men who robbed her mother's carriage.

It was the moment he knew she certainly was aware that her mother was dead.

"C'mon. Your Pa's out with mine and my uncles. We gotta get Johnse first. I'll send him ta find them an' I'll take ya back ta my mama." William slowly let her go and led her to his horse, giving her a leg up quickly before he got on behind her, taking the reins in his hand and galloping off in the direction Johnse had gone, calling out to his brother as he did.


	3. Part III

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the _Hatfields and McCoys_ series. Though historical accuracy may appear, this is a work of pure fiction. I do not claim any connection to the real William 'Cap' Hatfield, or any other historical people mentioned in this story.

**A/N:** Sorry for the wait! I' loving this story though, so here's the next chapter. Thanks to those who took the time to review!

* * *

**Almost Heaven, West Virginia**

**Part III**

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_West Virginia, 1878_

"Hey Libby girl, how ya feelin'?" It had become the question Johnse Hatfield asked Libby every time he saw her now, since the horrific incident this past winter. Will elbowed him in the ribs, knowing that it bothered her when people brought attention to the fact she'd endured what she had.

A girl who once reveled in attention now had become much of a recluse, avoiding the outdoors to the point where her hair had darkened a shade, and the roots were not lightening the way they normally did from the sunlight. It was well warm now, but it seemed Libby was content to stay closed in the house, or the Hatfield's, only ever traveling with their kin or her own father, terrified to go anywhere on her own or without someone she trusted. And going into ton was a nightmare. She'd hardly been since the murder of her mother now over a month ago. Though she had still gone to church and sat teary eyed every Sunday morning in the pews behind the Hatfield boys, looking down at her hands, not praying, only letting her lip quiver every so often before she sucked it in and took a controlled breath.

Will had spent the most time with her, maybe even more than her Pap. He'd taken it hard too, but Libby being so… defeated, had made it much harder for him. So during the day, he'd gone to her house while her father worked, helped her take care of their animals and chores before he'd bring her back to his mom for some lessons and cooking up dinner, while Will took care of his own household responsibilities.

She cried every day. The boys knew because each evening, Chet would come home with Anse and Johnse, and they'd all eat the meal Libby and Levicy had been cooking. Then Chet brought her home, right around the time her eyes would start tearing up and everyone else would grow quiet.

And until today, the boys had avoided asking her to indulge their fantasies about the James-Younger Gang and the Lincoln County Regulators. Neither of them had much motivation to learn to read, Johnse more interested in girls, while Will had finally been granted permission to work alongside his jackass brother at the timber yard, not to mention his never-ending target practice. But Will figured she had to snap out of it, cause now that he was going to be working, he wouldn't be coming to coddle her every day anymore. Her mother's murder had turned her into a different person, much more quiet and shy now, even much older seeming than the two boys. Which is why they had been worried she would react, well, the way she inevitably did.

As per usual, she responded with a shrug to Johnse's question, eyes cast downward at her folded hands. Johnse gave his brother a sideways glance, before he just went for it. "Well, got somethin' I think'll cheer ya up!" Slapping the folded paper onto the table, Libby actually looked at it, a pondering expression crossing her face.

The girl's eyes scanned the headline, one she admits, normally would have intrigued and excited her. She even cried when Billy the Kid was taken out; somehow they'd all seemed like heroes. But not now, not anymore.

"What're ya stupid Johnse?" They'd never heard her be quite so harsh towards them for no reason before. Her feet stomped on the floor as she quickly stood from the chair she'd been sunken into and swatted the newspaper onto the floor, pages fluttering in different directions. "I don't wanna know 'bout them no good bandits, understand me? I don't wanna hear 'bout them, I don't wanna pretend like we're gonna grow up an' be like 'em, an' I certainly don' wanna read 'bout 'em an' the people whose lives they destroy!"

Johnse was much more brash and emotion-driven than his younger brother, making him seem as though he were actually the junior of the two. And hell if he hadn't gone out of his way to be extra nice to her since her mom had died. "Just cause yer mama's dead Libby, don' mean yer gonna talk ta me like that. I can still whoop ya."

"Cut it out Johnse! Go on an' get outta here," Will intervened, realizing Libby was not doing well at all today, and she was lashing out at his brother because of it. But the truth was, ever since the night he'd found her, Libby had seemed particularly fond of Will. He'd been able to talk her down from quite a few emotional overloads.

Somehow, he'd found the patience to deal with it. He didn't know where it had come from, but he guessed it had to do with the fact he'd been the one to see her first. Hell, it had practically traumatized him too, seeing her _that_ scared.

Will had grown protective of her, especially when he heard the other kids his age gossiping and calling her a mean bitch. He'd slugged a few boys for that one, including Pharmer McCoy, in the churchyard, no less. Though it wasn't necessarily an untrue statement, Will wouldn't tolerate anyone saying it about her, and besides, she was never rotten to him. In fact, he was one of the only people who seemed to be able to crack a smile out of her these days. And watching him shoot seemed to be one of the only things she kind of enjoyed doing. So they'd spent a lot of time together. Her favorite thing was to sit out in the woods with him and tell him what to shoot. Even the things she'd set him up for failure with seemed to go down when he pulled the trigger though. The kid never missed.

Following Johnse and simultaneously leaving Libby to cool off for a minute before he went in and worked his, what must have been, Hatfield charm on her, Will sighed exasperatedly.

"Ya jus' need ta back offa her when she gets like that, get it?" Will told Johnse in a warning tone. He didn't want to have to beat up his own brother, but he might if he made the wrong move and sent Libby into tears.

"How much longer we all gotta be walkin' on eggshells 'round her? Ain't like I was even askin' fer it!" Johnse was well aware that he teased her to the brink of frustration often, but he'd been sensitive about her mourning her mother still. But it was time to suck it up, in his opinion. Life went on, and sulking wasn't about to bring her mama back to her.

"Ya don't get it man." Will's eyes were serious now, much different from the playful glint that was almost always there. They looked much like they had the night he'd rode up to his brother with a shivering Libby on the front of his horse. "Ya didn' see her Johns. Ya didn' see her face. She was so… scared. Looked at me like I saved her life." Sometimes, the look of terror on her face, the horror in her eyes haunted his sleep.

And maybe that _was_ how he felt. Like he'd saved her life. And like he ought to keep protecting her. After all, she only had her father. Lord knows that man hadn't even had his own minute to grieve since he'd spent most of his time worrying about Libby's state of being instead.

"Well, _you_ can go on in there an' coddle her, but I ain't gonna be yelled at fer nothin'. I'm goin' home!" stomping off to his horse, Johnse pulled himself up onto his saddle and rode off in the direction of the Hatfield home.

"Well, fuck!" Will cursed before he went back inside Libby's house, and found her sobbing as she picked up her mess of newspaper pages, feeling silly for lashing out the way she had, but she'd been unable to control her emotions for a while now. Johnse might've expected it had he not been avoiding her mostly, uncomfortable by her open displays of sadness. The eldest Hatfield boy just didn't handle serious situations well at all.

Even Libby was tired of herself, every single day passing and unable to avoid reminders of how her mother had been ripped away from her by people with no motive other than to rob the small amount of money they'd had with them.

Will's voice calling out her name had seemed like an illusion that night, a sound too sweet to be real. But he had been, and maybe that's why, at the age of twelve, Libby was already sure she loved the boy not much older than her. Though she'd spent most of her life waiting for them to invite her to play, her attachment to the middle Hatfield boy had become almost obsessive since he'd come to her rescue and found her in the deep, dark unknown.

The blonde boy walked over to her as she focused on not crying too heavily in front of him, his hands reaching for the papers she'd been attempting to clean up, embarrassed by her own childish actions.

"We were hopin' it'd cheer ya up Lib, is all. He didn't mean nothin' by it," William defended his older brother. He usually did the opposite, _trying_ to get his own kin in trouble with his mama and pap as opposed to covering for him, but in this case, it was more for Libby's sake. Johnse was actually trying to be nice for once, and she'd gone and blown up at him.

"I know… an'… I'm sorry fer actin' like a miserable brat all the time. I just… I want my mama," she sobbed, Will feeling compelled to wrap her in a comforting hug. He already stood a good half-foot taller than her, having hit a growth spurt rivaling his older brother's. Both boys were all limbs, Robert E sure to follow in their footsteps and stand tall and lean muscled, just like Devil Anse.

"C'mon Lib s'okay. Johns'll git over it." This is usually how it went; Will would feel bad for trying to make her see reason because he couldn't forget the disturbing look in her eyes when he'd found her. He never wanted her to feel upset again because of it. No one understood like he did. "Ya got yer pap still Lib, he loves ya. An' mine. An' my mama too. She'll teach ya everythin' ya need ta know. She loves ya like her own."

Trying to regain control of her sobs, Libby pulled away from Will, straightening her appearance by smoothing her hair and wiping her tears.

"Yer gonna be okay Lib, don'tchya worry." Will was caught in her haunted gaze, tear filled and glossy.

"I… I saw 'em kill her Will. I stayed back an' hid, an' I watched 'em do it Gutted her like a fish!" Frozen as she collapsed into him once again, weeping uncontrollably as she revealed her secret, what had been plaguing her this whole time. At no point had he heard that part of the story, and he doubted anyone else had either.

Instinctively, he wrapped his arms tighter around her, holding her close into his chest until she calmed before he pulled her back, holding her by the shoulders and keeping her eyes. "Libby… did ya tell yer pap?" Confirming his suspicions, she shook her head and attempted to control herself. The fourteen-year-old young man was at a loss. "Ya gotta tell someone Lib! Maybe they can find 'em" Either the sheriff, or Anse's Wildcats were bound to track them down if she could give them a description. Petty thieves like that would definitely have hit more than once, and to be murdering women like that, Will just couldn't understand it.

"Their faces were covered. I didn't see 'em. Not really. I just saw what they done…" Her voice quivered as she spoke. "I don't want no one else ta know Will. Just you. Please?"

He wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to deny her anything ever again. Part of him still felt she should tell her father and see what he thinks, but if she hadn't seen the bandits, she hadn't seen them. And he got why she wouldn't want everyone in the county talking more than they already were. "Okay, I won't tell no one."

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_West Virginia, 1878_

"Hi William." He was unhappy to hear her voice. Why had they let her in? He'd lost all hope for his eye. It ha started to cap over, and he knew he'd probably lost his vision in it for good at this point. Why did they have to let her come over to see though?

"Hi," he mumbled, keeping his gaze away from her.

"Johnse told me 'bout yer eye so… I baked ya a peach cobbler. Jus' hopin' it'll make ya… feel better. I remembered ya liked it so much last election day."

_Johnse_. He could kill him for sending her out here. Apparently Johnse had forgiven her for her outburst finally, weeks ago now. Will had started working in the timber yard with his brother and uncles for his father, and he was enjoying being a hardworking man, until this stupid accident had happened. Maybe it was what he'd gotten for rubbing it in Johnse's face that Devil Anse had seen him fit to work a year younger than he'd let Johnse. He became so focused on cursing his brother that he forgot the cobbler until she put it on the edge of the open window, the smell wafting in.

"Thanks," he grunted shortly. He had seriously enjoyed that peach cobbler last time he'd had it, but he was feeling self-conscious, knowing the inevitable question he wasn't so eager to be asked would come sooner or later. For some reason, he dreaded her asking the most. He thought he looked monstrous, and didn't want her to see, _ever_.

Maybe it was the way she'd looked at him like the moon and the stars for a while now. He was worried that would change, for some reason.

Libby stood unsurely, sad that he seemed so withdrawn. It was as though the moment her mother had died, she had transformed into a young woman, suddenly wise beyond her years. And when she had heard Johnse telling the story of how William had gotten his eye roughed up in a lumber accident, she knew the likeliness of Will keeping that eye was probably not very high. He looked broken, like he didn't know what to do, and had no hopes of ever enjoying life again. Much like she had.

But _he_ was supposed to be _her_ rock, not the other way around.

Though her mind and body were highly developed, her heart was still twelve, well, almost thirteen, but it was no better. Libby had really just began to take interest in boys seriously, and since the day he'd saved her from out in the wilderness like he had, she'd seen him in a completely unrealistic, heroic light. She wanted to marry him already, so he could protect her forever. But now he looked worn, sad and defeated. A shell of the William Hatfield she believed herself to be in love with.

Licking her lips, Libby sat beside him, his head turned to her. "You can't see outta it, can ya?" she asked, knowing that must be the reason he was so unlike Will. Since he'd saved her, her presence had seemed to give him an air of confidence. But now it only seemed to be making him uncomfortable.

"No. 't's gone all milky," he grumbled shamefully.

The golden haired girl was quiet for a second before she asked her next question, cautiously. "Can I see?"

Finally, Will looked over at her after a long moment of staring at his hands. A bandage was wrapped around his head, protecting the damaged eye as it healed. He may as well get it over with now, right? She'd see it eventually.

Pulling the cotton up, he showed her the now white eye, clouded over, before he quickly concealed it once again and looked away.

The light laugh that escaped from her lips sounded relieved. "Oh. It ain't so bad to look at, y'know. Way you was actin', I was expectin' yer eye ta be hangin' out the socket." He tried to cover the small chuckle that pressed at his lips. It didn't take away from the fact that she still thought he was the most handsome man she'd ever seen, even more so than Johnse and Devil Anse himself. "That there's the battle scar of a workin' man. Man who can provide for his wife an' children. Ain't no woman wouldn't want that." Will stopped a minute and absorbed her words. Libby hadn't even flinched at the sight of his eye, which meant she truthfully hadn't been bothered by the sight of it, because he'd seen her get sick at the smell of some things before. She wasn't known for having a strong stomach at all.

"Yeah?" he questioned her. She was a woman, he supposed. A very young one, but she had him convinced with her words and the way she placed them. Of all the girls their age, she was already the tallest and her skinny figure was beginning to fill out faster than most of the other girls too.

His only exposed eye surveyed her, watching as she blushed and looked away from him instead. "I'd marry you Will. I wouldn't care none, if'n you was ta ever ask."

Her words made him laugh, genuinely, for the first time since the accident actually. He leaned back against hi headboard, looking much more relaxed than originally. "Shoot, my Pa'd just smack me upside the head 'f I asked him that. And yers too likely. Tell us we're too young."

She giggled, proud she'd made him happy though she'd been half serious. But they _were_ too young; that she already knew would be the case for now. But one day they wouldn't be, and she wondered if he'd laugh then too. "I ain't talkin' bout right now silly. But… when we're older."

"Older, huh? Reckon they'll be lotsa other men by the time we's older. Ain't gonna want no… Cyclops." Sure, she could say she wanted to marry him now, but in three years or so, when they were old enough to start seriously considering the people they courted, she'd likely have some other guy who had a working eye. Hell, even Johnse would probably be looking her way by then, the rate she was growing.

"Don't you ever say that again 'bout yerself William." Her arms crossed over her chest angrily and she stood up to face him dead on. "Ain't no one been as kind to me and my Daddy as yer Pa and Mama, 'specially since my mama died. And you saved my life. You found me when I thought I was gonna die out there. Heck, you could probably kill a man an' I'd still marry ya Will."

He knew women started thinking about that kind of serious stuff way sooner than men, but she already sounded so certain. Hell, she almost had him convinced. "Guess we'll see how ya feel when we're old enough," he resolved for now.

"I'll feel the same," her small voice assured him as she shrugged a shoulder, absolutely positive in her assumption.

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